Neon Indian

Synth mastermind Alan Palomo on his future-sick new LP, Era Extraña.

Neon Indian's Alan Palomo is open-minded, excitable. Sitting at a cafe just a few blocks from his Greenpoint, Brooklyn apartment, he talks with the loud-and-clear confidence of someone closer to 30 than 20. (He's 23.) When I tell him I'm surprised he's so young, he laughs. "It’s tougher hearing that from a girl, like, 'How old are you? Oh, that’s cute.' It’s brutal."

The Texas-raised son of a Mexican pop star is bright in a way that doesn't give off whiffs of know-it-all undergrad bluster-- when he talks about post-punk's "sarcastic narcissism" or the "the annoying hum" of the Internet, his thoughts are refreshingly nuanced and sympathetic. He's also used the current confusion within the music industry to his advantage, jumping at what seemed like every chance he got over the last few years. Make a collaborative EP with the Flaming Lips? Why not. Put out a song on Mountain Dew's Green Label Sound imprint? Sure. Create and sell your own mini analog synthesizer? Yes and yes. As a testament to his adventurous spirit, Palomo shoved off to freezing, sun-starved Helsinki, Finland, last winter to record Era Extraña, his follow-up to 2009's lo-fi-synth blowout Psychic Chasms. (Listen to the new record in full at NPR.)

In jeans and a pastel button-up shirt with alligator print, Palomo discussed the uncanny themes behind his new music, his complicated relationship with the term "chillwave," and his thoughts about maneuvering within the twenty-first century musical landscape, all while drinking something called a Tijuana Brass.

"I find it so funny that for the first time people have access to this great equalizer in the Internet, and we use it to read album reviews and watch kitten videos."

Pitchfork: This is your first album where there's a significant amount of people actually waiting to hear it, did that get inside your head at all?

Alan Palomo: In the beginning it did. But my friend gave me a great piece of advice: “You really need to stop Googling yourself and start being an artist.”[laughs] I can’t pretend that I don’t subscribe to Internet music culture in that I discover new music and old music simultaneously. In order to generate something that’s indicative of the future, we’re trudging around this cultural wasteland of the past and finding these little pieces to play around with and recontextualize. It can all feel like one big collage piece.

But it was important for me to not use any pre-existing material and completely self-generate this album on both the audio and visual sides. You can’t always just put color filters in 80s aerobic videos or take stuff from public-access and look at it in this very ironic, self-conscious way. That only takes you so far. Memory is just as much of an instrument as anything else in music, so I wanted to create soundscapes that are evocative of places that only exist in your head-- that's where the fun, psychedelic stuff happens anyway.

The Internet really does create this dimension around the music that’s always in relation to what else is happening at the moment. But all you can do is ignore the annoying hum of the machine and focus on making art that makes you excited to be alive.

Pitchfork: As far as the Internet creating its own context, do you feel like you've been unfairly grouped in with other artists?

AP: Are you talking about chillwave? [laughs]

Pitchfork: Maybe.

AP: To some extent, it's inescapable. I remember a time when I would hear a band and then want to hear everything that sounded like it; I wanted it to feel like I was tapping into a thing, even if it wasn’t. But at the same time, I find it fascinating that the follow-up records from all the people living under this umbrella reiterate the fact that we're all coming at it from very different musical places. I don’t know many artists like [Toro Y Moi] that can write you this amalgamation of early Stones Throw and Arthur Russell and then give you a Stereolab/Henry Mancini record. That’s really cool.

I think the Internet has a way of coaching you into this state of mind where you think that every step you make needs to completely supersede the last. But that’s why I like the Flaming Lips and artists who are more concerned with creating this universe around everything in which their music can exist, as opposed to making a statement that follows the linearity of everything that came before it. You’ll drive yourself insane looking at music that way.

AP: I know [Washed Out] but I don’t see him that often. [Toro Y Moi's] Chaz [Bundick] is just the nicest kid you could ever meet. We definitely maintain a bit of a correspondence. I think somebody might have this image of all of us sitting around watching Back to the Future Part II, but that doesn’t really exist.

Pitchfork: These instant genres might also be partially responsible for why someone would want to keep moving around musically and not be painted into a corner.

AP: Obviously, I never willfully want to write the same record twice, which is probably why I jump from project to project. But I can’t ignore that there are things that inspire me, and I love celebrating those. There’s this really amazing quote from Jim Jarmusch about celebrating your theft that I think has become more and more prominent in music: “It’s not where you got it from, it’s where you take it.” To me, that’s just an integral part of why I even bother making music. I don’t mind that I’ve created an identity around what I do.

Pitchfork: You made the first Neon Indian album under solitary circumstances in an unfamiliar place, and you were also alone while making this new album in Helsinki. Do you find that being by yourself helps you to create?

AP: I subscribe to the idea that personality is like a muscle, and sometimes you have to let it go limp and detach yourself from any associations. When you completely extract yourself from anything familiar, you start reverting back to that state of mind where you're having conversations with yourself, and that’s where the weirdest and most honest ideas come from. After being in Helsinki for four weeks, there was this Werner Herzog monologue happening in my head, driving me crazy, like, [in Herzog accent] “What is music?” But I needed that kick in the balls.

Pitchfork: Did you have any bizarre experiences in Helsinki that you could talk about without being arrested?

AP: I got stalked by a hobo-- that was pretty weird. And the day before Christmas Eve, these townies started beating each other senseless in his bar I was at. The bartender hopped over the bar and was like, “Get the fuck out of here!” And since she'd already lept into action, I wanted to do something, so I put one of the townies in a headlock-- trying to break up the fight-- but the other guy’s like, “Oh, thanks!” and starts punching him in the face. Then the bartender put a boot in his face. It was the most exhilarating moment; she and I just broke up this fight between two people twice our size.

"I have this eerie feeling that by the time I’m 33, reality will not exist in the same plane as it did before. It's cool but also a little creepy."

Pitchfork: What were you listening to while making the album in Helsinki?

AP: [Jesus and Mary Chain's] Psychocandy, for sure. [The Fall's] Live at the Witch Trials. [My Bloody Valentine's] You Made Me Realise EP, which is like my favorite thing ever. There’s a lot of sarcastic narcissism in the songwriting and sounds on those records, which is really fascinating to me. It sounds like someone just ran a screwdriver to it, like, “Let’s see if you like this!” That spirit is so much fun to play around with.

And there’s something really fun and spooky about that teenage feeling of narcissism or indestructibility, like the idea that every night might be the night before the world ends. I kept having this image of [the Smashing Pumpkins'] “1979” video, but in a post-apocalyptic wasteland; the teenage narrative will always echo, regardless of time and place.

There’s nothing better than having an experience now that’s the exact same thing I would’ve done when I was 16, like texting a really awkward “I like you” message to someone. The way you phrase it might change, but it will always continue to happen, and there’s something really charming and calming about that.

Listen to "Fallout" from Era Extraña:

Neon Indian: Fallout

Pitchfork: Is this theme you're talking about more narrative or atmospheric when it comes to the album?

AP: Well, Era Extraña translates into a couple of things, but the thing that I thought was really funny was that the word in Spanish for "strange" is also the word for "to miss something." It’s rooted in the same sensation. And I do have this eerie feeling of rapidly-approaching singularity, or the idea that by the time that I’m 33, reality will not exist in the same plane as it did before. It's cool, but also a little creepy.

Last week, they made an announcement about a bendable circuit board that you put on with water like a temporary tattoo. When somebody used to hear or see something that was a potential game-changer like that, they'd be like, “Wow, we’re living in the future!” They'd have this really bemused, childlike mentality about it. But now, you're just like, “About time.” People treat music genres like that, too. There’s a really weird dichotomy happening; we’re so comfortable with the fact that we’re uncomfortable, it’s like “The Twilight Zone” all the time. Things are changing at such a rate that you really can’t get too familiar with anything that you own in relation to what sort of functionality it has in your life.

I find it so funny that for the first time in history, people have access to this great equalizer in the Internet, which grants everyone the same knowledge base, and we use it to read album reviews and watch kitten videos... not to put those two things in the same light!

Pitchfork: [laughs] I think the kitten videos are getting a lot more hits than the album reviews, at least.

AP: [laughs] We really are living in the era that all this sci-fi literature and cinema was centered around, but it’s not anything like what we envisioned it to be. It’s almost like there's too much choice. Now, because anybody can find their fan base through the Internet, it opens opportunities up for talented people along with people like Rebecca Black. It makes you more choosy and also more receptive to absorb anything for 15 seconds-- let alone 15 minutes-- to decide what you think about it.

Pitchfork: Over the last few years, you've opened yourself up to a lot of opportunities, from working with the Flaming Lips and Grizzly Bear's Chris Taylor to putting a song out on Mountain Dew's Green Label Sound to creating your own analog synth. Did you have an overall strategy as far as all these extracurricular activities?

AP: There’s no real template to follow these days for what a band should and shouldn’t be-- bands are just becoming these weird little Internet avatars that you either follow or download or interact with in some removed way. Obviously, there are things within the first cycle of Psychic Chasms that I would rethink now. At the same time, part of the fact that I had no fucking idea what I was doing is what made it such a fun time. Do I feel like my music is indicative of a caffeine-surged green liquid? Probably not. But will it create this avenue in which more people have access to the record? Of course. Why would you say "no"?

Pitchfork: Well, I feel like people did say "no" for a long time. That was the norm. And now the norm is saying “yes,” perhaps because it's harder to get noticed.

AP: I think it’s more about trying to just focus exclusively on writing music and making that a viable, sustainable lifestyle. It’s difficult because it forces you to really get creative. There’s a very distinct difference between a really wonderful DIY label and a soft drink company, or a car company, or a clothing brand, and you will always understand that difference. I think the bands that say “yes” are the ones that are figuring out how they can even do this. It’s an ongoing process. You should always choose your associations wisely because people create impressions around the music. But I think anyone that would like the music for what it is should realize that I’m not telling you to fucking clear that sweet ramp and then have a swig of some energy drink-- although that image in my head is pretty hilarious.